


Darkness And Voices

by jhead



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Asian Character(s), Choking, Dry Humping, F/F, F/M, Frottage, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Grinding, Orgasm, Other, Pain, Reader-Insert, Sexual Violence, Submission, Temporary Amnesia, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8899624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhead/pseuds/jhead
Summary: About to pass out in the Asuka Lock, the reader finds that the Empress Of Tomorrow will show mercy if you, well, rub her just the right way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic, first smut, first piece of work ever. I've been leeching off this community for months so I thought it was high time I tried to give something back.
> 
> All criticism welcome. Tried to leave it open in terms of setup and reader gender etc. Hopefully it works for you. Let me know what could be improved and what you liked.

_ Darkness and voices. _

 

How did it come to this? 

 

Losing consciousness, pain wracking your body, broken and humiliated on your back, the air being choked out of you?

 

And who is responsible for the cruel laughter echoing nearby, mocking your plight, enjoying your futile struggle?

 

_ Darkness and voices. _

 

Through ink-black clouds, you start to remember, to piece together the details, though the specifics remain obscured. This  _ might _ be the WWE Performance Center, though it’s impossible to be sure; very little light penetrates your vision, though that may be your rapidly fading consciousness as much as anything else.  You’re on the canvas, face-up, entangled from behind in the supple yet merciless limbs of a woman. One of your arms is pinned at your side, the other weakly grips a forearm locked against your throat. She’s whispering something in staccato Japanese, her tone thick with breathless menace and a curious note of reassurance, as if to signify that your predicament will end soon.

 

There is no love in her embrace, yet your core surges with heat in recognition of your assailant. The NXT Women's Champion. The Empress Of Tomorrow. The personification of sex and brutality herself.

 

_...Asuka. _

 

Questions flood your mind through the pain. Was this a fight? A training exercise gone wrong? Is wrestling, or at least some form of performance, what has brought you to this moment? Do you even belong here? Was it a dare? A trick?

 

A duo of Antipodean female voices taunt from ringside, encouraging and approving, relishing the spectacle. 

 

Did you  _ ask _ for this?

 

Even in your helpless state, you can not help but feel a jolt of excitement, a potent mix of arousal and fear, at Asuka’s touch. The manner in which her legs and arms encircle your body, how her perfume lingers even to your tortured senses, and how her breath burns triumphant across your neck and into your ear, meld together in deeply erotic torment.

 

Maybe it  _ will _ end soon. But how? Respite, or oblivion? Just another unanswered question. Or perhaps not; the dark clouds in your vision flash red as Asuka constricts, leaving nothing to breathe beyond the traces of her scent in your nostrils. She’s whispering faster, almost sing-song, and you swear you can hear the delight in her voice, her arousal at the punishment she inflicts. Maybe you did ask for this. Maybe you  _ deserve _ it.  

 

But now, fading, there is nothing, the void growing darker as your panicked fingers, almost numb from the unnatural way your arm is locked at your side, seek purchase - and find flesh. The surface of Asuka’s thigh feels flawless and beaded with sweat. Surprisingly soft, inviting. You feel the potent strength of the muscle beneath the heat of her skin. Your pinkie finger uselessly traces the edge of her ring shorts, and beyond it the gentle curve of her buttock. Your grip tightens there, a final plea, or maybe even gratitude.

 

Not a bad way to go, you think to yourself, your arousal intensifying as you cease to struggle, lying back into her, yielding to the encroaching black.

  
_ Darkness and voices. _

 

You awake as if from drowning, still ensnared in the hold, exactly where you were. What happened? Had it been seconds? Minutes? Sweet oxygen finds your hungry lips and you drowsily accept, nerve endings reigniting, the surrender of the moment allowing your arousal to persist beyond the pain. 

 

Asuka still has you -  _ has _ you, completely - and at this point you are willingly hers, though you remain tense, waiting for the vice to tighten once more. Perhaps the Empress Of Tomorrow likes to toy with her prey, dragging them back from oblivion only to send them under again? At this point you don’t even care. To remain in this repose, the plaything of a goddess, is a fate you now readily accept. Maybe it’s what you wanted all along.

 

Slowly regaining your wits, you feel that soft, warm thigh still lightly within your grip; still feel Asuka’s breath moistening your ear; still feel her compact, curvaceous body wrapping yours. She is now moving, insistently, rhythmically, as if spurred to action by your touch - or perhaps brought to the edge of self-control by the dominance she has so easily exerted over you.  Her crotch has found purchase against your hip, grinding molten against you, and the arm across your throat has moved down, her fingers splayed against your chest. Her whispers have become unintelligible pants and gasps, alternating shallow and deep in sync with the undulation of her hips.

 

Your vision clears, and you chance a tilt of your head, your hand more readily exploring the contours of Asuka’s thigh and buttock. Her leg remains wrapped around you, a slash of multicolour giving way to the porcelain of her skin, flesh rippling at her increasingly forceful grinding. Her slender, pale hand pushes and grips at your chest, nails teasing pain and pleasure on a whim.  Your stomach tightens in arousal as you feel the soft bulbousness of Asuka’s breasts crushing against you from behind, intensifying further as you glimpse over your shoulder, from the corner of your eye, the face of the Empress herself: the matted colour of her makeup and hair against her beautiful features; mouth slack and tongue pitched in exertion and lust; eyes fluttering heavy-lidded between intensity and euphoria. The corner of her mouth curls into a slight smirk as you regard her, the pace quickening, vocalizations pitching ever higher, head tilting back as her sex presses damp and undeniable onto you.

 

Urgency tempered only by lingering pain, your touch glides over her thigh, contorting down between your hip and her crotch, fingers curling as you drag slowly across the slicked fabric of her ring shorts. The nails against your chest dig in, accompanied by a whimper from Asuka and hushed, excited coos from the still-unseen women spectating your tryst.  Her eyes flit open to meet your struggling gaze, her lower lip bitten in anticipation, and you require no further cue, working your fingers past the fabric and gliding slowly into the moist, velvet warmth of Asuka’s incredible pussy. The gasping moan that escapes her lips is delicious, irresistible pornography, and your core throbs in heat as you work your fingers in and out of her, bucking backwards to meet the frantic thrusting of her hips onto your hand.

 

Asuka, The Empress Of Tomorrow, so disciplined and focused in her various tortures, comes undone beneath your touch - legs releasing you from their grip and spreading wide, back arched, shoulders rolling onto the canvas - and you roll with her, now in the dominant position, claiming her, looming over her thrashing body as you curl and glide your fingers deep inside her cunt.  Your free hand snakes beneath her back and arches her further, drawing her jiggling breasts and expanse of glistening torso towards you. She’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen or heard, her hands gripping your arms and shoulders, mouth sinful in ecstasy, all motion in sync, harder and deeper and  _ she cums _ , wailing and wide-eyed, onto your hand, every spasm soaking, pearls of nectar running down the folds of her labia, orgasming in waves.

 

Moments pass, your collective breathing slowing, sweat mingling on your bodies, foreheads touching, gazes locked. Her eyes are pools you will willingly drown in. That perfect smile, a harbinger of the unknown, plays across her lips. You open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off, commanding even as she lies spent and breathless in your arms. She reaches up past your face, her fingers gripping the back of your aching neck.

 

“Good”, she declares, “very good. But next time…  _ more _ ”.

 

You contemplate asking what she means, but it doesn’t matter now. There will be a next time, and the thought intoxicates you. 

 

And so, withdrawing your fingers from her slick warmth, you position yourself, unflinching and accepting as Asuka’s forearm flashes violently towards you, leaving nothing but--

 

_ Darkness and voices. _

  
  
  



End file.
